


So We Remain the Same

by gaygreekgladiator (ama)



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 23:23:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama/pseuds/gaygreekgladiator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>... and the rebel warrior fell silent for once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So We Remain the Same

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sisterwinchester (takemehome)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/takemehome/gifts).



“Dominus,” Kore said in a low, unobtrusive voice.  “You require me?”

Crassus nodded, though he was still considering a wax tablet in his hands.

“Yes… yes, I do.” He looked up, and granted her a small smile. “You can guess why, perhaps.”

“No, Dominus.”

“The woman Saxa.”

Kore’s eyes turned apprehensively to the tent that stood some feet from them. Even those who were not aware of the German woman’s existence knew her now. She had started screaming the moment a Roman laid a hand on her, and had hardly stopped since. Sometimes her words were German, unintelligible to most; sometimes they were rough, violent Latin. Sometimes she simply shouted an endlessly litany of the names of her dead.

“What do you wish?”

“She must be silenced,” Crassus said, his face serious. “The crucifixes will be prepared within the hour, and she will be the first up, but the rebels are still restless. The wind is not in our favor. Every time they hear her, they shout back, and no lash will quiet them. No Roman, and no man, can control her.”

Her eyebrows rose delicately.

“And you believe I can, Dominus?”

“I do.” He smiled again and put his hand on her back, leading her into the tent.

Saxa was trapped in the center of it, her hoarse voice listing the names of her dead generals, but she interrupted herself long enough to spit insults at Crassus in German. He clucked his tongue, the way he did when his younger sons shirked their lessons.

“Bite your tongue,” he said in a soft voice.

“Fuck you.”

“The slave knows nothing of obedience, or of the dignity befitting a woman.” He turned to Kore. “I know you have very little time, my dear, but will you attempt to instruct her? I promise, she cannot harm you.”

Kore nodded. Crassus exited the tent, and the rebel warrior fell silent for once. She looked at Kore, her eyes shrewd, and Kore cleared her throat. The rebel’s last words still rang in the air—Gannicus’s name had been among the ones she shrieked loudest, and most often.

“You are Gannicus’s woman, are you not?” Kore asked quietly. “I have heard you spoken of.”

“I fought and fucked with him,” Saxa said, her voice a lazy drawl. “He did both well. I was never his woman.”

“You fought like a demon when he fell. I had thought…”

“You thought I fought for love?” Saxa sneered. She stretched out her limbs, the chains rattling at her wrists and ankles. She was staked to the ground, weighted down with iron, dirt and blood smeared over bare flesh, but Kore had seen consuls look more nervous. She realized suddenly that this woman would be dead in an hour. “Would I be a better woman, if I did?”

Kore could think of nothing else that would compel her to abandon her duties and her family. But she could see in the rebel’s hard eyes that such an answer would not be comprehensible, and so she shook her head and said nothing.

“Is that what keeps you serving the Romans? Love?”

There was such disdain in her voice that Kore stepped forward, her voice crackling with anger.

“ _Love_. You say the word as though it is weakness—it is not. It is what keeps my heart beating. It—”

“—it is what they will carve on your tombstone,” Saxa interrupted, her voice soft and sharp. “Had a Roman’s cock in her. Was made worthy.”

Unthinkingly, Kore slapped her. She had never struck anyone before; her fingers stung, and she stepped back quickly so the rebel could not retaliate. Saxa bared her teeth, and for one wild moment Kore thought she was going to break free like a rabid dog. Then she realized it was a smile. She swallowed thickly.

“I will have a tombstone,” the slave said, her voice trembling. “Your—your bones will rot on the crucifix, and justly so.”

“The world is my tombstone. My name is carved in the soil by Roman blood. My voice is carried by the Northern Wind. The warmth of my life blood lingers on the lips of every man and woman I have ever kissed. I will die free. You… a slave.”

Her voice was a soft murmuring in the confines of the tent, and she sounded like an oracle or a force of nature.

This woman would be dead in an hour.

Slowly, Kore stepped forward. She knelt in front of the rebel, breathing steadily despite the tears that threatened to choke her, and stared down into those strange ice-grey eyes. Saxa was still wild, still as unfamiliar as the forests of Germania itself. Eyes still open, watching her cautiously, Kore bent down and kissed her gently on the lips.

Her heart was beating, steady and strong, and for a moment there was nothing but the feel of it throbbing in her chest, and the rough scratch of Saxa’s chapped lips against hers. Then the rebel tilted her head, and the kiss changed. Saxa’s mouth became hard, unyielding, as she drove her teeth into Kore’s bottom lip and traced her lips with her tongue. Kore’s breath was stolen. She could not back away—frozen by her own shock and a deep, aching need in her core—until Saxa released her.

She fell back, sitting on her heels, and one hand flew to her chin. The sensitive flesh of her mouth felt sore, but she could not tell if it was bleeding. She closed her eyes.

“Do I taste of freedom?” Saxa asked sweetly.

“No.” Kore stood and walked towards the entrance. Her hands twisted in the fabric of her dress, but she refused to look around. “Of death.”


End file.
